Wait For It

You’ll need to suffer to make any real art.

I feel too deeply and want too much.

And I’ll find strength in pain, and I will change my ways.

When someone say’s you’re difficult to love, or hard to handle, remember they say it about them, not about you.

Of all the things you could have said to me, I wish you had told me the truth.

maybe I was meant for solitude, being by myself and trying to figure out my own cosmos always made more sense to me than being with others and trying to explain myself to them.

I don’t belong, I know. So, I face the wind, count stars, and let go.

I don’t want to be swallowed up by sadness and anger. it takes up so much of my time when I could be doing things like reading and going out. but even when I do read and go outside, I’m not reading, and I’m not wherever I “am.” I’m doing well but I’m not doing well.

Today I have grown taller from walking with the trees.

I want to be a work of art, at least in my soul, since I can’t be one in my body.

The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are

I want to fuck you against a wall, tie you up, and make you scream my name. But at the same time I want to take care of you for the rest of my life and make sure no one hurts you ever again because you deserve so much better than that.

I wonder how many people don’t get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to be with.